The Norse Chronicles: False Truths
by Nate Thomas
Summary: Gunther Paraway is tortured by unknown pains and aches. He thinks they are natural, but there is more. Especially when a murder is involved and Gunther's life turns into lies.
1. Prologue

**Goliath, as he was known, emerged from a tent on the far side of his **camp. As he pushed aside the cloth that acted as the door, the fabric gently fluttered in the wind. He glanced around, turning his head left and right, scanning the night scenery. There was no one in sight except for the passerby soldier about two hundred yards away. He crept forward. But being of such height made creeping difficult; therefore, his footsteps created loud crunching noises under the rocky-sandy ground. Each step he took made him silently wince, thinking that someone was to hear, awake and find him.

Now he could see his own tent looming several yards in front of him. _Almost there_, he strived.

"Goliath?" questioned a sudden demanding voice. "What are you doing here, all alone? You're not out drinking with the rest of your comrades?" The question pierced Goliath to the heart. He stood still for about a second, letting his composure flood back into himself before slowly turning around to see a fellow soldier stretching to look into his eyes. His mind racing to find a suitable reply, the giant lied, "I was gazing at the stars. I find them… intriguing. The gods made them for us to ponder on. I find it relaxing to stare at them before upcoming battles. Especially the one tomorrow. Wine simply didn't appeal to me tonight." Goliath, then, even managed to force a rare smile of his to make it seem even more convincing. The other soldier nodded.

"Yes, they are quite brilliant and relaxing. Well, I wish you a good night." replied the soldier. Goliath nodded in response, then turned his head back upwards and continued to stare at the sky. Once the soldier had departed, Goliath heaved a huge breath and his shoulders relaxed, for he had been involuntarily holding his breath. After recovering from the shock, he then walked off to his own tent, this time not sneaking, knowing he had an excuse.

There was no wind on the dusty battle field. There was nothing to make a sound except for the two armies ready to collide. But only one rose shouts. This army roared with fierceness, insults, and curses. The hurled their taunts at the other army, the Israelites. The Philistines mocked them, having the idea already imprinted in their minds that they would be victorious.

Their champion stood immense, menacing, and haughty between both armies. He was Goliath. First, he raised his fist to the Philistines and gave his battle cry, then turned and faced the Israelites. "Are you not the subjects of Saul?" he yelled. "Choose one of your men and have him fight me in single combat. If he is to win, we shall become your subjects, but if he is to lose, then you shall become our subjects and serve us forever! This day I defy the army of Israel," he finished, laughing evilly.

At this, the Israelites trembled. For forty days, after each night, during each daily battle, Goliath came and repeated those words, each day becoming more boastful.

During the forty-first day, a small commotion came from the army of Israel. The soldiers were moving apart, as if to let someone through. Finally! Goliath thoughtfully rejoiced. _Time to squash an Israelite!_ Then, a mere shepherd boy, stepped from the lines. He wasn't tall, but wasn't short. His build wasn't scrawny nor was it large. He didn't advance much. Goliath, expecting a fine warrior and an honorable fight, in rage screamed, "Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks? By my gods, curse your life and your family! Come here! I'll give your flesh and bones to the birds and wild animals of this land!"

The small shepherd boy, with his blue eyes, looked calmly into Goliath's, unfazed by his insults. Then, the boy's battle speech was heard amongst all the warriors on the field. "You Philistine!" he spat. "You come at me with sword, spear and javelin! But I… I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty, the God of the Israelites which you have defied! This day He will deliver you into my hands, and I'll strike you down and cut off your head! Then all the carcasses of the Philistines shall be given all the wild animals and birds so that the whole world shall know there is a God of Israel! All those here shall know that it is not by the sword or spear that the LORD saves, for this battle is His and He will give all of you into our hands!" At this, the Israelites, having been renewed with adrenaline, cheered and lifted their weapons.

Goliath stared at the boy, at his five stones in his hand, at his sling and at the army of Israel. _Barbaric boy…_ Goliath charged. In one swift movement, the boy had moved one of the five stones into his sling and began to twirl it, making a humming noise.

Goliath drew closer.

The boy waited, having the sling gain speed.

The Philistine was almost upon him…

_Whoosh_ The stone sailed through the air with dead accuracy. Goliath suddenly realized with dread what was to come, but it was too late. The stone struck his head, bouncing off. Goliath's body shuttered and shut down. His eyes rolled into his head, he gasped and he fell crashing into the ground, his armor rattling. Dust was then flung out from under his body making a mini mushroom cloud.

Then the boy approached and drew Goliath's own sword from its sheath, and only managed to bring it up to waste level struggling under the weight and brought it down, slicing off the giant's head.

Both armies stood still. Almost simultaneously, they both looked at the boy, then at Goliath, whose blood was now staining the sand.

The whole Israelite army chanted his name, over and over. "David, David, David!

A woman crouched behind a large rock a few yards away from the Philistine camp peaking upon the soldiers approaching. They were cut, bruised and bleeding. They were defeated. Many had cuts and scrapes. Some had large gashes and even more had severed limbs. When the woman didn't see Goliath in the line of survivors, she slumped her back against the rock and slowly slid down, choking back fear. Glancing down at her rounding belly, she knew that without Goliath, the men other would taunt, tease, and hurt her. She had no protection from the abuse that would most defiantly come. _I will find a way to go through this. Even if I have to run away, they can't know, I will find a way. My baby will survive_…


	2. Chapter 1

**Gunther Paraway **_**hated**_** Chicago. Sure, there was Millennium Park **with its gardens and themes, and the selections of renowned museums to tour in, but Gunther couldn't bear it. It was the smell of oily, polluted air that burned his nostrils. There was the non stop noise of cars and trash talking people that produced his splitting head aches. And on top of all of that, it was simply too crowded. How was one supposed to enjoy a nice family meal in their cramped backyard with all of _that_ happening? Could anyone possibly pass the time reading a book outside while the constant droning cars would interrupt the small amount of relaxing bird chirping? What if you are claustrophobic? How, how, HOW?

That was what Gunther kept asking himself as he stood grumbling at the foot of the sidewalk. Cities had never been his forte, and never would be. His father had explained that he had been born here in Chicago and lived here his whole life, but there was something inside of him that didn't feel right being here in the city.

He stood at a street corner, sometimes shuffling in place out of boredom while waiting for his school bus to arrive. Across the street from him, there was a Walgreens; a Walgreens flooded with people coming in and out and in and out. Over and over, simply repeating, never ending! _No! Don't think about that!_ But then off to his right there was a vendor selling hot dogs and chips, a homeless man begging, and a group of show off teenagers all yelling at once.

"Get your hot dogs…!" yelled one

"Money for the poor…?" begged another

"Hey there ladies, what you got there…?" teased the group.

Gunther's mind swirled and he felt slightly dizzy. First, he steadied himself by putting his hand against the white 'Bus Stop' sign and leaned against it, then shook his head to clear his vision. After recovering, his nose almost involuntarily breathed in a little too much air. Gunther's head and vision became fuzzy again as the sour aroma of vehicle fumes and burnt fuels filled his body. Gunther, again, steadied himself on the pole before slumping to the ground.

_UHG! What's with me today?_ His mind screamed. He always felt a little light headed but today it was really acting up. Gunther reached behind his back in a clumsy fashion, opened one of the flaps and fished around inside for his water bottle. He found it. Hands shaking, he managed to twist of the cap and take a long swig. The cool water only slightly helped, so he tried a more practical approach and splashed the remaining water onto his face. He was up on his feet instantly. The cool drip of the water from his face and black hair to his clothes felt unusually refreshing. The water had also gone all over his shirt, which was perfectly fine with him.

"Dude?" came a voice from behind. Gunther jumped in surprise. "What the heck is wrong with you?" It continued. Gunther turned around to see a teenager boy just behind him. He was almost as tall as he was, roughly five feet six inches. His pants were tight black skinny jeans slightly sagging but being held up by a spiked belt. His shirt was black with the band name 'Demon Hunter' imprinted on it with blood dripping letters. He wore a hoodie which was also black. And not surprisingly, his hair was long and wisped around to one side, also in the shade of black.

Gunther responded, "Sorry man, but the city makes me feel weird sometimes. Something's just getting to me today."

"Whatever."

The boy stepped back and leaned against a nearby fence, plugging in his skull candy headphones. Gunther, even from where his distance was, could hear the heavy bass beat of screamo music.

Gunther decided to sit back down on the pavement to ease his legs, which were becoming shaky. But no sooner then he had he sat down, the main group of kids came walking around the corner. Gunther could see them all. Michael, the popular one. Jessi, the hot one. Jeff, the wacko one. And so many more.

_To many people!_ Gunther's mind yelled at him. _I know but what's causing this?_ He questioned himself. _Ha, I'm arguing with myself._

Then the bus arrived. Its rumbling engine, gassy exhaust pipe, and ugly yellow colour tortured Gunther even more. It came to a halt right in front of him. Everyone wanted the best seats in the back and stampeded the doors. People were pushing past Gunther. _So many people._ A person shoved into him, but he couldn't see who. That's when he felt the shock. It wasn't electrical but it hurt; a powerful pain through his whole body. It was all Gunther could do to get to his seat before almost succumbing to unconsciousness….


	3. Chapter 2

**Gunther lumbered into his first period class and slumped into his **desk. The pains he had endured for the entire bus ride were fading. He put his elbows on his desk and rested his head in them, then massaged his temples, easing his dying headache. Also, his nausea had been reduced to a small stomach ache. Laying his head on his desk, Gunther tried to ease his mind before school started.

About three minutes into his quiet rest, a voice spoke above him. "Dude, you look like you just went to a frozen part of hell and back!" Gunther lifted and tilted his head in the direction of the voice. "Whadaya mean?"

"Well, your face is like, super pale and stuff."

"Define stuff."

"Okay well your face is just pretty pale, that's all."

Gunther moaned. "I know, Han, I know. I've got a bug or something."

Han, Gunther's closest friend shrugged, and took his seat next to him. "What kinda bug?"

"I don't know. Just some headaches and nausea I think."

"Okay, hope you feel better."

"Ha, me too."

The rest of first period seemed to pass by at the rate of a turtle running a marathon. Han seemed worried enough about Gunther's condition, but Gunther was too dazed to take heed to his concerns. Gunther also tried to pay attention but only caught snippets of the teacher's lectures.

"And if you round the square root of…" the teacher started but the voice faded.

"And yet he only found that by multiplying the curve of…" Her voice rose and died again.

"And the radius plus the other…" She droned.

"Okay, no homework for tonight…" Gunther heard the last few words with thanks. The way he had been paying attention would serve of no use to any homework.

_Brrrrrring_! There went the bell. Gunther slowly rose from his seat, picked up his books and made his way out of the classroom. His headache rose slightly as he pushed through the crowds of teens trying to make their way to their next class. _Stupid Claustrophobia_! He silently complained. Stumbling over to a nearby wall, he leaned against it. Gunther closed his eyes and started to take a deep breath when someone bumped into his right side. The same shock he felt earlier that day coursed through his right side, biting his skin and sending his head and stomach rocketing into spasms of grinding aches and nausea.

He whirled around as quick as he could, which wasn't very quick at all, to see who knocked into him, but his vision was blurring and all he could see was the colourful, blurred features of all the students rushing by. _What the heck…_?

That's when a teacher came walking through the hallways. She was wearing a black skirt, a pink top, giant high heels, too much make up, and overly done dyed hair.

That's when she saw Gunther, paling by the second.

That's when she came over to check on him.

That's when she said, "Deary, are you alright?"

And that's when Gunther threw up all over her shiny, polished black high heels.

Why did the bed have to be hard? Of all things in a nurses office that are already uncomfortable, couldn't the bed be, soft? _When I'm sick, the only thing I want to lay on is a stone hard bed! Oh the luxury!_ Gunther's mind thought sarcastically.

_Crrrreak_. The whiny door to the nurse's office opened and in stepped a tiny old lady. Age was drawn on her face, her arms sagged to show her frail bones and she walked with a hobble. Gunther disliked her already.

"So what's wrong with you sweetie? Feeling a bit under the weather?" She asked with false happiness. Gunther could tell she had no interest in him or being in the office. Gunther responded as nicely as he could. "You could say that. Something has been making me weak and have headaches all day. Whatever it was died off then flared up again in the hallway." _And all over Ms. Eckersal's shoes._

"I see. Well it seems like you just caught a bug of some sort. Why don't you call you mom and tell her to come pick you up so you can have some rest at home."

Gunther clenched his fists tightly, holding in his anger. He didn't like people talking about his mother. "I don't think my mom will be… available. I'll call my dad instead." He forced the words out through semi clenched teeth.

"Okay hon," the nurse said, oblivious to Gunther's anger. "Whatever suites you." Gunther slid from the bed, walked out the door and over to the telephone. He grabbed it, dialed his house number, and while it was ringing, he gripped the phone hard, shaking away the remainder of his headache and momentary rage.

Gunther lay in his bed in his house in his room. No hard bed to rest in, no nurse, no sickness. Just his room and him.

Quiet.

His Father had come to take him home from school and it was a fairly quiet drive home except for his dad always asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

But in the serenity of his room, Gunther pondered upon the fact that something in the school was making his nerves rage. Possibly a someone.

Gunther was determined to figure out what or who it was.


End file.
